BEAUXBATONS, FRANCE
by chasethe-dreams-xXx
Summary: Beauxbatons and wizard France has been overrun by Giants, dementors, etc. Follow Monique as she learns to adjust to London, makes frindships and rivalries, and attempts at saving the wizarding world of France. Rated K for mild cussing.
1. Where am I?

Fear. That's all I remember. Pure fear and nothing else. Running also. The thump-thump-thump of feet pounding down the side walk. Lastly, the pounding of my heart, as if it were about to burst out of my chest. Then darkness.

There I was, next thing I knew, in a hospital. My eyes flickered open to the point where I was lying on a bed. In the room next door, unfamiliar voices in the strange language of English. Fear. There it was again. They were talking about someone, and though it was hard to understand, I made out tid bits of the speech. "…out of nowhere…poor condition…very mysterious.. parents are unknown…send her to Hogwarts…" I could tell they were talking about me. _Me._ An interesting term. Then I saw it, the baby blue rags which were my clothes, and the wand. It was splintered, worn, and maybe halfway broken. But it was a wand. All of the sudden, memories came back. Not like they usually do, gradually and one at a time. These were like a tidal wave. They just hit. Here come the migraines.

Next time I was conscious, I saw them. Not just here them in the room next door, but actually see them. Look at them. Face to face, eye to eye. An old man with a long beard and a doctor dude. "Hello." Not only did he look like a robot, but he sounded like one too. The only difference was his smell, because I'm sure robots don't produce BO. "I'm Dr. M Tallik, and you're in St. Mungo's hospital." My mother told me about this place. In fact, all of these places. She moved to France when she met my father, but she grew up in London. That reminds me, my mother. "Where is she?" Sobs. That's what's stuck in my throat.

"Who?"

"My mother?" Tears are forming in my eyes. I try to hold them back, but one escapes. It feels like acid as it drips down my cheek.

"We're unsure." Wow. Just, wow.

Now the tear's weren't coming down as little escapees and runaways, but in a massive stream river flashflood of sorrow and pain. My cheeks were on fire. It felt like hell. "M-my father?" The words caught in my throat like hair.

"We don't know his whereabouts either." Just what I expected. What a dumbass.

Now my face was soaking. It didn't burn. It was to hurtful for a burn. This wasn't just hell, it was Tartarus. I was squealing on my bed, wiping my tears with the hospital blanket. The fuzz on the blanket irritated and stung my weeping eyes. I couldn't help myself. Anyone would've done that. Dr Tallik was about to speak, but the old man interupted him with a cough. Thank you, old man.

"We were wondering who you were, though, and why you're in England." A massive sob was coming up my throat. I tried to squeeze it back. Like Atlas helplessly struggling to hold up the world. How would I be able to talk about myself? The old man got the queues.

"I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. And you?" No sympathy, no oh-you-poor-thing. That's what I liked about him.

What was my name? Darcie? Domonique? Monica? "Monique," I breathed, barely aware of what was so quietly escaping my mouth, "Monique LaGuine." Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard as if he were getting evidence to solve a mystery. He was.

"Why are you here, in London? You have the French Beauxbaton robes." So much for first impressions.

"I-I," choking, hacking, wheezing, coughing, and crying nearly overcome me. My vision blurs. My memory may have come back, but it was swept away again. Damn you, tsunamis. Yet again, more runaway words. "Giants attacked Beauxbatons and all of France. Dementors too." Even at the saying of the words, the room got colder. And darker. It all went black for a moment. I woke up, thinking I passed out for a while. I only did it for seconds. Damn you, hallucinations. I was still in that room, with Dumbledore and Dr Tallik.

"I see this is hard for you," finally, the side of Dumbledore I liked. Never pities you, just understands. "You can come to Hogwarts, my school, for a while. Then we can try to talk again." He got up and left. Without that retarted Dr M Tallik.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" His tone, that pityful falsely-empathetic tone. Go scrw yourself, M Tallik.

"No." I try using hints in my tone to say "Get the hell out!" or "scram!" but it comes out in a quivery wail. Ugh. But Dr Tallik gets the stern look and leaves.

Silently, to myself, I cried. My mother was sitting on my bed, singing me Au Claire De Lune. The light of the moon. Our favorite Sonata. I reach for her, shakily. Before she can grasp my feeble hand, she fades away. And if any fragment of her was left, the air conditioning would blow it away. I'm sorry mother, I can't go through this hell. Not even for you.


	2. A very Delaucor-Weasley summer

Brittish summer. Not a nice warm French summer, but a cold, nippy Brittish one. It was slower than molasis. I went to live with my Aunt, Fluer. And she was very despaired at the news. Each day was the same. I woke up around 6 or 7, to find the house asleep. Damn time differences. I tiptoed out of Dominique's Room, where I slept, to the kitchen and made myself breakfast. Every day it was the same meal, the only one I knew: toast, butter, and some fruit and milk. Then when everyone else woke up, around 8 or 9, I'd say hellos and read as they ate breakfast. When they finished, I might play with Louis. Then sit outside and look at the beach. Lunch. Some talking with Aunt Fluer. Try learning some more English. Dinner. Brushing teeth. Bathing. Going to bed. Over and over, the custom grew on me. Until around the last days of August leading up to September.

" 'Ello Mrs. Fluer." Really? 'Mrs. Fluer?' Why didn't the bartender address her as 'Mrs. Weasley?' Oh yeah. There were other Mrs. Weasleys. But still, ruh-ude.

"Hello there," her English was smooth, unlike mine. It wasn't as smooth as Uncle Bill's, or Victoire's, or Dominique's, or Louis's. It would never be. But it was close enough. "This is my niece, Monique. She's here for a visit."

The man patted my silky velvet-blonde hair. I immediately patted it back. I'm not sure about London, but in France, we shake hands. Much more formal and polite. "Nice to meet you, love." A gruff voice for a gruff man.

"The pleasure's all mine." Did I forget to mention that he doesn't shave well? His face is covered with stubble. Literally.

"I'd love to chat," Aunt Fluer says. The mans attention snaps like a breaking stick to her. "But we're buying school supplies." The man nods, and returns to the bar. Fluer goes to the wall. What the literal hell? And knocks on some bricks. One, two, three. And soon the wall splits apart, unveiling a small wizarding outdoor mall. 'Diagon Alley' reads a sign. Sounds like Die-and-go alley. What a suitable name. "I'm taking Louis to get his textbooks and supplies. We'll get the books for all of you as well," my aunt's voice declares, snapping me out of my trance. She hands me, Domonique, and Victoire a budget. "You girls go buy yourself supplies. Try and stick together, and meet me at Gringotts by three." We all nod our heads in promise. And then my aunt and sweet cousin disappear around the corner into Flourish and Blotts.

"Do you have a wand?" I hear Victoire's voice asking me the question.

"No, I does not." Domonique giggles at my bad English but abruptly stops after being elbowed by Victoire.

"I'll take you to Ollivander's, then. Domonique, you can meet up with your friends." Domonique looked satisfied. She smiled.

And then she ran away. "See ya at three!" She called as she waved and ran.

Victoire turned to me. "What type of wand did you have?" I like Victoire. She's nice, even though she can be sympathetic. But she's definitely friendly.

"Uneecorn hair,spruze wood, thirteen inches, a leetle steeff," I recite, by heart. It comes out of my mouth as naturally as breath. Victoire seems surprised that I remember that.

"I'm sure olivander will have that," she says, smiling at me. I can't help but smile back. Damn, she's so kind.

The five hours come and go. We arrive at Gringotts at three with all sorts of knick-knacks. I'm grasping my new wand, some dress robes, my school robes, and all other supplies. Aunt Fluer and Louis are there. In a few minutes, Domonique arrives with all her bags. After Aunt Fluer deals with some depositing for her job, we return home and put away things. Uncle Bill hesitantly decides to change his office into my bedroom, supposing I stayed for the long term. He'd be ok, he had his workshop. Maybe this new life might not be as bad as it seems.

**Hey guys! Sorry that this isn't completely book accurate. However, because I'm not using too many Ocs, I'm pretending Snape and Dumbledore are still alive. Please try to see past that if you only look for book-relatedness. And please ignore the "grammar mistakes" in Monique's speaking. She is more used to French, so part of her character is that she has crappy english. Thank you! And if you can check out the fanfic 'The Hufflepuffs' on LyricaLyric's page. We're working on it together. **


	3. So much for first impressions

"You get to the platform by running into that post," Victoire explains in the simplest way she can. I respect that, but I still don't get it. I mean seriously, run into a post to get to the train station? I actually miss France, even though it's corrupted by monsters. Victoire lets out an exasperated sigh. "Just hold my hand and close your eyes," she says, her palm at her forehead. That sounded like something lovers would say. "Just hold my hand and close your eyes," and then he kisses her lips and when she opens her eyes, he's gone. Reluctantly, I grab Victoire's hand. We look ridiculous. If I were, let's see, FIVE it might have been ok, but I was twelve and Victoire was thirteen. I was mortified. But soon, our feet were speeding towards the pillar between platforms nine and ten. Next thing I knew, we were at the platform.

"Goodbye, sweethearts," Fleur said in her slightly accented English. She kissed Louis on his cheek, and he rubbed it off as soon as he could. Dominique pushed Fleur away as soon as she bent in to kiss her.

"I'm twelve, mom," she whined. Fleur looked a little offended, but decided not to argue. She kissed Victoire on the cheek. For a teenage girl, Victoire acted very… young. But mature, of course.

"Goodbye, Mama!" she said, waving. And then we boarded the train. Dominique the gothic went to sit with her clique of emo second years. Victoire and I sat with some of Victoire's other cousins and friends. The ride seemed to last forever. But it wasn't too long. I met Rose and some others. They're… ok. Finally that everlasting hell of a ride stopped. And we reached the place known as Hogwarts.

We all crowded into the Great Hall. Everyone went and sat at their tables. First years lined up to get sorted. I had nowhere to sit in that massive dining hall. Finally, I saw a familiar face. Dumbledore. He motioned to me, inviting me to sit with him. Great. Eating with an old man. So much for my social life. Out of respect, though, I sat in the chair next to him. Enormous clamor filled the hall as friends go back with each other. Meanwhile, beet-faced vela-girl (me) was sitting next to Tim the Enchanter. And then Dumbledore stood up, AND A HUSH FELL OVER THE CROWD! Silence. Then speaking.

"It is great to see all of your faces, old and new. I am despaired to inform you that our partner school, Beauxbatons, and all of wizarding France has been attacked by monsters. A new student who was lucky enough to escape will be joining us. Please welcome Monique LaGuine." I stand up and courtesy out of habit. It's what we did when addressed by Madam Maxime. Man did that Dumbledore pronounce my school's name wrong. "She may be a little old for the sorting hat, but we're not sure how else to sort her. So let's welcome her. And please note that all Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products are STRICTLY prohibited." Some 'aws' from the crowd. Then silence. Awkward, long, unrewarding silence. All eyes were on me. What? Did I have something in my teeth? Then I realized: I needed to go to the sorting hat. I walked to the old, patched-up hat. I nearly picked it up, when it began to speak.

"No need to worry/ or be shy/ put me on your head./ it won't hurt to try!"

I jumped back, squealing in fear. Cackling, sniggering, laughing, giggling, and other obnoxious sounds bounced off the walls. I was holding back tears. Soon, Dumbledore fake coughed and he crowd stopped. That's why I admire Dumbledore. I stepped forwards cautiously and lifted the hat onto my head.

"RAVENCLAW!" it called out, with no hesitation. Obviously. I have that kind of memory. 'm burdened with it.

The Ravenclaw table claps as head forwards to join them. A girl from Gryffindor sticks out her leg and trips me. And of course, it's one of Dominique's gothic friends. "French ass," she says, her lips curling into a mocking smile. So much for a first impression. Luckily, the Ravenclaws aren't as rude. Maybe Hogwarts won't be as crappy as expected.

**The /s in the Sorting Hat's first dialogue represent line breaks, as in a poem. Just in case you were wondering. If you dislike the term 'French Ass' I recommend you stop reading. Just so you know**


End file.
